Getting to Happy (12 page)

“This is not the time to talk about me or Isaac, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Where did this happen?”

“In front of Clarkson’s Nursery.”

“But how? Even though I think I already know.”

“I’ll tell you later. I’ve got a few more calls to make.”

“Where is Gloria right now?”

“I think she’s asleep.”

“Poor Marvin. Poor Gloria. And today of all days. On their goddamn anniversary! Which gang was it? Oh, never mind. They don’t even know what they’re fighting over, do they? Turf they don’t fucking own. Drugs! Drugs! Drugs! This isn’t the Wild Wild West. It’s fucking Phoenix and it’s 2005, isn’t it, Tarik?”

“I know, Auntie, I know.”

“I’m sorry for swearing.”

“Why don’t you wait until you calm down and maybe come over tomorrow. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you in this state. Ma’s okay for right now.”

“I can’t stay in this house. I’ll drive slow. Please don’t say anything about Isaac to Gloria. It’s not important right now.”

“So she doesn’t know?”

“No.”

“How long has he been gone?”

“Not long enough,” she said. “Tarik, who else knows about Marvin?”

“I left a message for Auntie Bern, asking her to stop by to see Ma, and Sparrow is going to tell Auntie Robin when she gets home from work.”

“That was a mistake. I’ll call them,” she said. “What about Joseph and the girls down at Oasis, do they know?”

“I’m about to call them after I hang up. This is so surreal, it’s hard to believe.”

“You’re telling me. Lord, have mercy. Just like that, huh? Your life can be snatched away from you. In a split second.”

“That’s the whole truth.”

“And how are
you
holding up, Tarik?”

“I’m doing the best I can,” he said. “Trying to be strong for my mom.”

“You don’t have to be strong when it comes to something like this. None of us do.”

As it turned out, Robin had gone straight to the gym after work and forgotten her cell phone in her locker and she wouldn’t hear about Marvin until she got home. It was after nine.

Savannah and Bernadine arrived minutes apart. They didn’t ring the doorbell, just walked in. Tarik was sitting in a chair near the door. “Hey, Aunties,” he said, standing up to give them both a much-needed hug.

Savannah had a balled-up tissue in her hand. When she opened her mouth, her voice cracked. “Where’s Gloria?”

Tarik pointed to the family room. Gloria was sitting at the far end of the chocolate brown sofa as if it were full of people. She was in a white robe. Her elbow was on the arm and her face was held up by her palm. Her eyes were blank, even though it looked as if she were staring at something on the floor. Savannah eased next to her and put her arms around her. Bernadine knelt down on the floor and began to rub her bare feet. When Robin got there, the three of them helped Gloria get into bed. They took her robe off, only to discover she was fully clothed. One by one, they removed her socks, pants and T-shirt, and each of them wet washcloths and bathed her lying down. When they finished, Robin saw the crimson nightgown hanging on the closet door, but opened one drawer after another until she found a short, pink cotton gown, and the three of them propped Gloria up and pulled it over her head. They kissed her on her forehead, tucked her in and sat on the bed until she fell asleep.

They did not say a word.

The house filled up with people almost overnight.

Joseph closed Oasis for three days, and just about all of their clientele showed up for the memorial service, which was short because years ago Marvin had made Gloria promise him that if he checked out first, not to spend too much of her precious time grieving over him. “Don’t stop living because I’m not around. And please don’t have no sad funeral for me, Glo. I mean it! Make it a party and help me celebrate my life! I want you to chuck my ashes on one of these fine golf courses because I believe that’s where my heaven is, somewhere close to the eighteenth hole!”

Gloria would follow his wishes to a T.

Tarik had done his best to comfort his mother but he had lost the only father he had ever really known, so he, too, needed to be comforted. Nickida did the best she could. Gloria didn’t know how she would’ve been able to fill out all those damn death papers if it wasn’t for her friends. The first few weeks, when Gloria could barely get out of bed, they cooked for her and massaged her hands. They helped her get up. They helped her lie down. They held her when she moaned and when she screamed. They cleaned the house. They took turns sitting with her, watching her do nothing and listening to her not say a word.

Gloria couldn’t sleep. She just couldn’t get warm. Marvin’s side of the bed was empty and cold. She had never slept in this bed without her husband, except for the time he had to go to Oxford, Mississippi, when his brother called to tell Marvin a long-lost relative had left them some property. She missed him lying beside her, but she knew he was coming back. This was just a big mistake. Until then, she’d sleep in her grandkids’ room, on the lower bunk bed. She took Marvin’s pillow in there and hugged it until the feathers flattened.

It took a while before she was able to walk into Oasis, and even when she did, she couldn’t bring herself to go through all her mail. Gloria didn’t know what she’d do without Joseph. “Don’t you worry about a thing, baby,” he’d told her when she tried coming back a few days after it happened and she had to go back home.

Gloria wanted to return the boat, but of course she couldn’t. The dealership couldn’t care less that it was a gift for her husband and he had died. So Gloria gave it to Tarik, who gladly accepted it but on the condition that he take over the payments. With his new raise, and with Nickida’s income, it wouldn’t be a hardship.

It had been only a few weeks when Gloria got a certified letter from Marvin’s insurance company with a check made out to her for $300,000. She was not moved. In fact, that check would stay in the envelope, in a slot on the kitchen island, for weeks.

She sleepwalked through the days down at Oasis. It was like being at one long wake.

“Girl, let me give you a hug.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Can I give you a hug?”

“I lost my husband a few years ago, baby. Time is the only healer.”

“He’s in a better place.”

“God doesn’t give us more than we can handle.”

“Can I give you a hug?”

Gloria was grateful for the ongoing show of sympathy but she was also glad she didn’t do hair anymore. She couldn’t concentrate or focus on too much of anything for more than a few minutes at a time. She avoided all paperwork. Couldn’t fill out forms. Why were they so long anyway? She often forgot to order inventory. Her snail and even e-mail was often backed up for weeks. Robin’s corny jokes didn’t make her crack a smile.

Coming home from work was the hardest. She hated the silence when she walked in, which was why she left both TVs on: the one in the family room and the one in their bedroom. They kept her company. Sometimes when she pulled into the driveway, she hoped to smell a steak sizzling on the grill or some kind of fish searing in a hot skillet or bow-tie pasta or spinach noodles boiling in chicken broth and chopped garlic, since Marvin did most of the cooking on the days she worked.

Way back in ’90, Marvin King—whom Gloria would learn was a recent widower and retiree—had moved into this ranch-style house, which was right across the street from where she and Tarik lived. Back then, Marvin had no idea there was any more love available to him. In fact, he thought he’d used up that card, and was ready to settle into his living room with the remote control. Before he could get acquainted with all the channels on his new satellite TV, Gloria Matthews—being neighborly and glad to see another black family finally moving into the neighborhood, and thinking he had a wife and family—had gone over to introduce herself and bring them her famous sweet potato pie.

Gloria’s knees felt a little wobbly after Marvin told her he was a widower, mostly because he was handsome and she found his stark white teeth surrounded by that mixed-gray mustache and goatee dangerously sexy. Plus, Gloria hadn’t wobbled in years. No one was more surprised than she was when she found herself adding a little rhythm to her stride as she headed back across the street, where on a platter she created mountains out of collard greens, candied yams, her famous honey cornbread, chilled potato salad and enough slices of ham to feed a family of four.

When she met Marvin, Gloria was fat. She hadn’t thought or cared how she looked until she had to buy a bigger size. On the day she felt something churn inside her chest, she was up to an eighteen. Her blood pressure was off the chart, but Gloria never thought she would or could possibly have a heart attack. Until she had one. She was thirty-seven years old. Marvin was there. He helped her walk her way down to a healthy weight. Taught her how to eat, and how to cook to save her life.

Over the next six or seven months Gloria would discover how quickly time passes when you’re happy and how slowly when you’re sad. She found herself crying when she tried so hard not to. She lived in constant twilight, despite the comfort of her friends and the long hours she had started putting in at Oasis. She was the one who felt dead.

They would catch the boys responsible for Marvin’s death; of course they would. The idea that the three young men would spend the rest of their young lives in prison was not at all gratifying to Gloria. It wouldn’t bring her husband back. Their young lives were over, too, except they had to die every day while still breathing. These were boys who would probably never grow up to live as free men. She did not—could not—go to their trial. Her girlfriends would.